


The Tale of Mr. Frodo and Samwise the Stouthearted

by FairyRose11



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ends after Return of the King Epilogue, First Part takes place during the Two Towers, M/M, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:13:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4521501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyRose11/pseuds/FairyRose11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows how much Sam loves Frodo, how much Frodo depends on Sam. But what does Frodo think of Sam's incredible loyalty. What happens when they finally met again in the Undying Lands? Excerpts from their journey, from a trek through Mordor to long after their quest has been completed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tale of Mr. Frodo and Samwise the Stouthearted

There’s a moment, in Mordor, where Frodo sits back and watches Sam.

For once, Sam is resting, curled up beneath his cloak. Frodo is meant to be keeping watch, and he’s determined to not fall asleep this time. Sméagol might have proved himself trustworthy, but there is a difference between being trusting and being stupid. Frodo does not intend to make that mistake.

It’s a rare thing to see Sam asleep. He does not look exactly peaceful, but he looks content. Which, Frodo thinks, is how Sam has looked for this entire journey. Not happy, but content at Frodo’s side.

Frodo does not know exactly what he has done to deserve such loyalty, but he knows that he is grateful for it. Not because Sam takes care of him, although he does, but because Sam is here.

Frodo knows that he is brave. He wouldn’t be walking to his death otherwise, carrying the Ring, which he can feel even now. _It’s always there, like a thought in the back of his head that he can never quite shake._

Still, Frodo knows that all the bravery in the world wouldn’t have gotten him this far. Sam is his protection, his strength, and (if Frodo is honest with himself) his sanity.

 _He loves me_ , Frodo thinks, _and I love him. And I am leading him into death._

When Frodo looks at Sam, he sees the gentle face and the strong arms, and he also sees the songs, the jokes, the kindness, the _hope_.

Frodo never wanted to bring Sam here. He wishes now that there is a way to leave Sam behind, to allow him to return to the Shire and Rosie Cotton and light.

It is pointless wishing. Sam will never leave him. Not ever, and truth be told, Frodo is grateful for it. He does not think that he would last long without Sam.

Somehow, Frodo doubts that Sam needs him quite as much.

*

Later, they crouch underneath their cloaks and make themselves as silent as possible while orcs stride right past them.

They poke their heads out when it’s safe, and Sam says “I wonder where it is they’re going, Mr. Frodo. Pity they aren’t traveling to our Mountain, though I can’t say if orcs would be any more agreeable to follow than old Slinker and Stinker.”

Frodo doesn’t exactly laugh, but he half-chuckles, and tells Sam “You mustn’t dislike Sméagol that much. He’s proven himself to be an admirable guide so far.”

Sam scowls. “That may be, Mr. Frodo, but I still say he’s planning something. If he tries anything, he’d better watch out. He won’t have any mind left to think of his precious when I’m through with him.”

Frodo feels a sudden swelling of affection for Sam. “I do not doubt that,” he says gravely, and he leans forward and kisses Sam’s lips.

It’s a very brief contact, lasting only a couple of seconds. Frodo can not say why he chose to do it, except that they had come close to being captured, again, and they hadn’t. And Sam is still making jests and looking to protect the Ring, which they both know really means “protect Frodo.” And Frodo cares about his friend, and he wants to show Sam that, in some way. So here they are.

Sam’s face goes as red as a tomato. He stammers for a moment, trying to find something to say and failing. Frodo can’t help grinning, more at Sam’s expression than anything else.

“Thank you, Sam.” He has to say something eventually, to pull Sam out of his state of simultaneous delight and distress at being so tongue-tied. “You must believe me when I say that I would never have gotten here without you.”

“I… er, well that is to say...you’re very welcome, Mr. Frodo.” Sam looks like he could die of joy, right here. Frodo wryly thinks that he might not want to kiss Sam again if he still wants his friend alive for the rest of this journey.

*

Then, somehow, they are no longer together. Frodo knows that it is the right choice, that he was slowly losing himself in Middle Earth, that the Undying Lands are perhaps the only way he might be able to fully heal.

It doesn’t do anything to make him forget who he left behind. When Frodo thinks of his friends, he always thinks _Strider_ , _Legolas_ , _Gimli_ , _Merry_ , _Pippin_ , and finally, finally, Sam. He saves the most painful for last.

 _Difficult, but right._ This is what Frodo whispers to himself. And he is happy in the Undying Lands. Living among the elves gives him the sort of peace that nothing else could bring. When Bilbo finally dies, Frodo is by his side the entire time.

Gandalf is here. So Frodo hasn’t had to say goodbye to all of his friends. And he knows, in the furthest reaches of his soul, (the part of a person that is hardly ever wrong, because it sees clear and true) that Sam is content with his family.

That’s the truth of the matter. Sam has Rosie, and little Elanor, and the other children that are sure to come. Nobody deserves it more than Sam.

Frodo is not harbouring any delusion that his retreat has not hurt Sam, no matter how much he wants it to not be so. But Sam’s grief will not be the sort that fills him up, because he has far too much joy in his life for that. Eventually, he will forget Frodo and the Ring.

This, Frodo tells himself, is for the best. It’s like when he tried to leave for Mordor without Sam or anyone. He wanted so much to protect the people he loved, and he wants that still.

*

Sam does not forget. Frodo cannot even believe that he is surprised.

It is an ordinary day, beautiful and full of… well, serenity, because that’s how it is in the Undying Lands. Then Gandalf comes to visit, and after Frodo hugs him, the wizard pointedly says that someone is here to see him.

Suddenly, serenity is not all there is. There’s fear, and hope, and the sudden, fragile beginning of joy.

“Sam,” Frodo breathes, and then he yells the name. He flings himself forward like a young hobbit half his age and half collapses into Sam’s outstretched arms.

They cling to each other, laughing and weeping. Frodo kisses Sam’s head and then his face, lips coming away salty from Sam’s tears.

No words really need to be said. It can be noted that Gandalf watches them, and furtively wipes a tear from his own eye. “Hobbits,” he mutters to no one in particular.

*

They spend the entire day and most of the night talking. Frodo mostly wants to hear stories about Sam’s life back in the Shire. His eyes widen with surprise and delight when Sam speaks of his children. The same eyes shine when Sam tells him how they named one Frodo, and three others Merry, Pippin, and Bilbo, respectively.

Frodo touches Sam’s shoulder gently when he talks of Rosie’s passing. He laughs happily when Sam tells him about being elected mayor of the Shire.

Sam finally brings up the Red Book. “I passed it on to Elanor, just before coming here. I do hope you approve, Mr. Frodo. I always took care of it, dusted it and showed it to all of the kids, made sure they got a good healthy dose of adventure, though not more than what was good for them, if you get my meaning.”

“I do, Sam. Thank you, for taking care of the book. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you!”

Sam blushes. “I am a mite bit older since we saw each other last.”

“So am I,” Frodo points out. It doesn’t matter, anyway. They are both wrinkled and white-haired, but that makes no difference. They are still Frodo and Sam.

Frodo smiles just a tiny bit mischievously, and says “At any rate, you have always been beautiful, Samwise Gamgee.”

It’s been years and years since that day in Mordor, but Sam still turns just as red. It does Frodo’s old heart good.

Sam yawns. “Sorry, Mr. Frodo. It’s been a long journey, you see.”

Frodo nods. “There’s no need to apologize, Sam. We have all the years that are left to us to talk. Here, you can lay your head against me.”

“Oh, I couldn’t--”

“I insist. We are equals, Sam. We always have been. And once, you did the same for me.”

Sam doesn’t have the energy to protest any more, so he curls up against Frodo, leaning his head on Frodo’s lap. Frodo strokes Sam’s white curls.

And then they go to sleep, with the knowledge that they are together again, that truly, they had never lost each other. That they never will.


End file.
